A poem a day is the poet way!

Year One

They cut me open, gave me you. My heart
Stopped and then started again. Here’s what
The doctors don’t say: outside you, a second heart
lives now, beating, bleeding, fragile and cut
off from you, but connected by mouth and arms.
You touched me with your hunger, your fingers
on my face as if you were blind and formed
me, wholly, from your desire. I wanted to linger
there, each moment a cove of quiet I could inhabit,
or destroy.I wanted to whisper, yes, I could give
up so much more: food, water, art. But I can’t.
I can’t. Love is a child, a blank sheet, also a crib.
I want simply to love you. Let me love you, please,
but don’t make me surrender. You surrender to me.